Dark Secrets
by Deliverer
Summary: Everyone has a dark secret somewhere. There are no exceptions. The hard part is admitting them to yourself. Oneshots delving deep into the minds of the characters. Sister story to my Beyond Grim and Evil series.
1. To Lose His Identity (Boogey)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: This is a series of one shots dealing with each character I work with in my recent series, Beyond Grim And Evil. There are no OC's, but minor characters are brought out more. These one-shots delve into the characters psyche. Not necessarily as I portray it in the series, but it is all touched on. If some seem OOC forgive me, but I believe that each one of them has a deeper side to them, and secrets they think about. After all, who _doesn't_ have such inner secrets?

They will, as often as possible, be put up with each posting of my multi chapter story- Beyond Grim And Evil: So It Begins. This story is located in the 'Grim and Evil' section of this site for the sake of a larger reader population, in case you want to read it. Enjoy, and if there are any characters you want to see, ask about it. I may have them, I may not have planned on putting them in but might later. Enjoy. Feel free to guess at who each character is.)

To Lose His Identity…

It was all he had. Everything he _was_ lay upon it. Everything he knew and loved was based around that one thing. His raison d'etre. Fear was his food and drink. Fear was his rest and his vigour. Fear was his everything. The boogeyman, fear. Was that all he was? Not technically. Was he a bully? Yes. Was he a monster? Yes. Was he a kidnapper? Yes. Was he a murderer? Yes. Was he scary…? He didn't know. He'd once thought so.

He was the living embodiment of fear. The mere mention of his name had once made the boldest of children wet themselves. The mere mention of him had horrified even adults. For eons he'd been used to frighten children into behaving. For centuries he'd been used to scare citizens into obedience. Yes, even adults. You see, to adults he was especially frightening. Why? Because adults knew the boogeyman didn't exist. Because adults knew he wasn't really there. That was what made it all the worse.

He wove beneath the light of the full moon, clothing for his stolen souls. He was the smallest hint of fear. He was the thing reaching out from under the bed, in the closet, ready to grab you. He was the figure scratching at the window. He was the moaning and weeping of the wind. He was the phone call that had never came through, or the breathing on the other end. He was the unidentifiable shape in the dark. He was the dread of the dark, of open spaces, of isolation, of death. Everything. He was the fear of the unknown.

He was your darkest and most horrific nightmares, the tingling sensation up your spine, the sense of… of what? Of anything you could possibly imagine that gave you a sense of doom, despair, or dread. He was the feeling that someone was lurking right over your shoulder, or crouching ahead and lying in wait, hidden in some area shrouded by the dark. He was the horror in horror movie, the root cause of the most terrifying of situations. He lured unsuspecting victims into his merciless hands by making the sounds of a crying baby; luring them from the safety of the light and into the unforgiving darkness. _His_ unforgiving clutches. He was the creature materializing from the mists upon the moor! Fear him mortals, fear him!

But they wouldn't. Fear was no longer him, though he himself _was_ fear. Fear was no longer attributed to him. He was considered a separate entity now. So, was he scary? Yes. No. In all senses of the word he was still terrifying, still as powerful as ever, if not more. Yet he was nothing. Just the boogeyman. Just fear. _He_ wasn't scary, oh no, but _fear_ was scary. But how did _that_ work? He didn't understand. He was so confused. Fear itself not scary, yet fear was scary? Why couldn't he understand? How could he be so terrifying yet such a has-been?

Terror and trepidation were what made him up. It was quite literally his body and being. Fear. Was fear itself afraid of anything? _Could_ Fear, fear? Yes. Fear was his identity, his existence. To lose his identity would be to lose his life. He was his own salvation, and he didn't want to be.


	2. Tired (General Skarr)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Tired

He was tired. That's it. Just tired. He was tired of the life he led. He was tired of the past, tired of the present, just plain tired. There was nothing in this life he could possibly do to make the fatigue go away. No matter what he tried, it always fell short. There was no satisfaction in anything. He pretended to take pride in his garden, just as he'd once pretended to take pride in his position, in world domination. It was all a lie. Everything was a lie. He didn't know anymore what he was. Correction, he knew full well what he was.

He wanted to rule the world, to enslave the human race. He wanted to make humanity suffer as much as _he_ had! He had once said, talking of nightmares, that he'd had a nightmare once, years ago, and he'd never woken up. It wasn't a lie. He'd been doomed since the day he was born. What was there in this world for him? He knew the world itself was off limits. It wasn't a realistic goal, and never would be. Soon enough he'd get bored of _that_ too.

So he buried himself in gardening, pigeons, swordplay and warfare, for to stop for even a moment would mean to look back on his entire life and see how pointless it was. To stop for even a moment would mean to realize that he honestly and truly had nothing to live for. To stop for a moment would mean to contemplate death, and why on Earth he fought it instead of inviting it to take him.

He'd never seen himself as suicidal, and never would. He couldn't do that to himself. He was too proud. However, he sometimes wondered if it would really be so bad. The thing he wanted he could never have. He'd lost it long ago to another. He'd never even known he'd _wanted_ it. Now it was too late. So he would live out his pathetic dreary life, a life of suffering and pain, and he'd take it as it came. He would drag himself miserably through it until his dying day, and then, only then, would he embrace Death as it came to him. He wouldn't die happy. He could never die happy. But at least he would die. When the time came, he supposed, that would be the greatest gift of all. After living _his_ life, he deserved at least _that_ much. Come and get him reaper.


	3. Inadequate (Harold)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: For those who would otherwise wonder about this, in the beginning of the series, this character was actually the level headed reasoner of his family. As the series progressed though, and his wife returned, he became steadily dumber.)

Inadequate

He was a stupid man. He'd never deny it, for it was the truth. He knew it. _Everyone_ knew it, so why hide it? He was who he was. Who _cared_ anyway? He got through life. He'd accomplished things even the best of men hadn't. Wife, child, a job albeit never steady, a good financial situation, and a house. Besides, his wife had enough control and brains for _all_ of them. She kept the house orderly and neat. She kept their son under control, and him too if he got a little too wild. She was wonderful. All in all a simple man, not a deep thought in his head. He only wished that were true.

For years it _had_ been. Most of his life, in fact. No deep thought; things were what they were. Nope, nothing. Not until recently. In fact, not until just after the Grim Reaper had materialized on Earth and set up camp in his house, and Mandy's. Not until then did he realize just how inadequate and unprepared he truly was. You see, when _he_ showed up, _she_ had left. She had run out in an insane panic to her sister's house, and she'd left him alone with their child. Alone to raise the boy. He hadn't been concerned at first. She'd run before and always came back. She didn't though. Not this time. It wasn't like she'd been gone forever. No. She was back now, sleeping in their bed peacefully next to him. It had been just long enough, though, for him to realize how completely inadequate he was.

He tried not to go back to that time, but there were moments…All at once he'd found himself raising his son alone. All at once there was no more cooking and cleaning and order being kept. All at once he'd had to grow up. He'd had to be the parent. He'd had to prepare meals, cook and clean the house, take charge, provide for his motherless son, work, and still find time to be a loving father. He'd never thought an intelligent thought could flit through his head until that time. They hadn't come easily either. He'd had to force them out desperately. The only force on Earth that could get him to grow up and be an independent man was the thought of his son who now, more than ever, needed a father.

The boy had been clueless at first. Slowly, though, their son had begun to see the seriousness of the situation. Luckily she had come back just in time, and eased the child's growing fears. The kid had never been separated from his mother before, after all. As for him, he had never been so happy to see her before in his life. Not even on their wedding day. Now he knew what his life would be without her. Immortals if anything ever happened to her, anything more permanent… No, he couldn't think about it. Why? Because he didn't know if he could do it again.

He didn't know if he could handle the responsibility she did every day. He was weak, compared to her. She shamed him. She was efficient, quick, firm, wonderful. He was nothing. He was a stupid inadequate man, but for his family he would bend Earth and heaven. For his family he would become the responsible, calm, reasonable father. It would just take work, is all, and he hoped to the gods that he would get a handle on it before, gods forbid, the worst should happen. Get a handle on it so that for once in his life he would be adequate enough.


	4. Two Worlds (Nergal Jr)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Two Worlds

Two different worlds, too different beliefs. Where did _he_ fit in? Did he belong to the mortal world of his mother, or the immortal life of his father? Was he to abide by the modern standards, or live through the ancients? He didn't know. He had no clue. Perhaps that was why he didn't fit in with other children. Perhaps that was why he'd _never_ fit in. Was he some inhuman, hideous creature condemned to the underworld, or was he a worthless human being, condemned to the mortal realm?

He'd tried to fit in. He'd tried so hard. He always fell short, though, always. No matter what he did or tried. His mother's words told him one path, his father's another. They tried to balance each other out, but somehow he sensed that it was just as hard for _them_ as it was for _him_. Why should his parents suffer any more stress than they already did? This was something he had to find out on his own, wasn't it? He didn't want to. He couldn't do it. He couldn't put his parents through it too, though.

He looked human in form, but the creature he truly was, was anything but. He acted and sounded human, but his thoughts and nature steered him every which way but mortal. Life or death, could he even _die_? Sickness or health, could he even _become_ sick? Mother or father… And that was the choice he couldn't make. That was the choice he never wanted to make.

He loved his parents so much, but eventually one world would dominate the other. When that one world shone through, only one of them would win. Only one of them wouldn't feel betrayed or unloved or worthless, like a failure. His mother… sickness and death, but happiness and satisfaction. Love, understanding, safety. His father… Immortality and immunity from everything, but sadness and solitude, depending on your choices. Unlimited power to bring whatever you wanted about, hate, adventure.

Hate, love, obedience, adventure. Two worlds. Aspects of both which he liked. He liked the immortality, the power, the respect, but he liked the happiness, the satisfaction, the love. He hated the loneliness, the never being satisfied, the hate itself. He hated the death, the sickness, and the submission. Where would his life lead him? He didn't know. He never wanted to know. But slowly and surely it would unfold, and he could never stop it. So fine, let time tell him what he was to become. He could take it, for if there was one thing both worlds had in common, it was the resilience.


	5. Sometimes, Very Rarely (Mandy)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Sometimes, Very Rarely

There was no way around it. She was what she was, and what she was, was a cynical little girl; cold, calloused, and ruthless. She controlled people with her will power. Almost everyone feared her at some point in time or another. What humanity didn't realize about the little girl, however, was that she was still just that. A little girl.

She could still feel fear, and had many times. She wasn't unconquerable, though more often than not she always won. She'd been kidnapped more than once, lost a battle more than once. She had felt respect for Irwin, even love for a moment, before he'd thankfully changed her back. She'd had crushes, like Piff. She had enemies, like Mindy and most others. And perhaps the biggest and rarest effect of all, was tears.

Only once could she remember a tear. When she'd actually seriously begun to think that Billy would never come back after the kraken took him. Then there was the one feeling she felt hardest. Then there was the feeling she never showed. Childish. Sometimes she felt just like what she was, a child. She never showed it, oh no. She hardly knew it herself, but she felt it.

They were few and far between, and even then there were only some choice moments when she actually liked them. Whenever her parents cowered from her or hid, or bent to her will, they weren't the bosses. _She_ was. They were spineless weaklings. They bowed to her every will and whim. They showed no responsibility or assertiveness towards her at all. Perhaps that was why she spent so much time at Billy's. _His_ parents didn't fear her to such a degree. _His_ parents didn't bow to her. You'd think that would tick her off, what with her longing to dominate the world, but no.

That was when it came into play, the dark secret she never shared. Sometimes, very rarely, she wished that for once in her life her parents would man up and take charge. Sometimes, very rarely, she wished they would act more like parents than cowering slaves. She wanted to know what it felt like, she just wanted to know. What would it be like to be the child instead of the master?


	6. Hades And Persephone (Aunt Sis)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Hades and Persephone

Hades and Persephone. That was who she likened herself to. That was who others likened her to. A god of the underworld had once more looked upon the Earth and seen something he liked. Typical of the gods of mythology, he'd taken what he wanted. Of course, not in the way Hades had taken Persephone. No. Persephone had fallen in love with Hades, yes, but not until a long time after. _She_, though, had fallen in love with her husband.

Before he could force her to come, she'd chosen to go. He'd loved her the moment he'd seen her. He proposed to her the night they met. If she'd said no, she still wondered if that would have stopped him… Yes, she loved her husband very much. Of course there were those who would wonder why. Feminists would be appalled to take a glimpse into her home life. They would see him as a monster, though he'd never so much as laid a finger on her, but he wasn't. He believed he was, but she knew better.

A glimpse was hardly enough to truly feel what she felt. She knew the ancient ways. She knew the policies. A wife was to obey every word her husband commanded without question. _Especially_ if her husband was a god. The strongest of _men_ had to obey the gods, let alone a woman. Was her home life like that? No. Not by a long shot. Not to the degree most would assume. She stayed at home, yes, the traditional wife, but so did many others. Rarely could she see the surface world or her family anymore, but sometimes that was more a blessing than a curse. Submission? Again feminists would be appalled at her, because the answer was yes. She had no problem with the out dated policy of the husband as head, though. It was actually really easy to live by. He _made_ it easy. She spoke her mind when she needed to, and he listened. Despite the way he'd lived, he listened. More often than not, what _she_ said _went_.

Was it always like that? It was, and it wasn't. The first time she'd talked back or refused a request, she'd been afraid he would lose it on her. His eyes had lit up furiously, his tentacles appearing. She'd spotted her mistake instantly. He wasn't of this time. He would never be of this time. He would always draw from ancient beliefs and customs. They were what he knew and loved. She had been terrified of him in that one moment, so you can only imagine how awed she was when he'd forced his tentacles back down again and left without a word, accepting her declaration. That was a pro, but a con at the same time, for he hadn't looked once at her again for the rest of the day. Was it anger? No. She could have handled anger. She could have matched anger. It had been shame that kept him from speaking to her. It had been shame that kept him out of his own bed that night. It had been shame that kept him away from her. He had sensed her fear, and he'd regretted it.

At the start she'd used that. In those moments where she felt fear and despair brought on for no reason other than how wrong her situation was, where she felt like leaving and never coming back, she would try to get that reaction once more. She would try to prompt him to strike her. For him to strike her would be a reason for her to leave. He never did, and she never found the fault she'd tried to convince herself he had. Now she knew that he understood the differences between their times. He knew the expectations of hers, and he did everything in his power to keep to them. It wasn't easy, to balance a modern life with an ancient one, but they'd done it. He was her husbandly owner as much as he was her servant. She was held higher than goddesses in his eyes, and she was a thing to be respected and cherished. She was a gift he could never bear to lose. Just like the gift she'd blessed him with. A son.

Now things would be harder, yes. A child sandwiched in between two totally different worlds, unsure which he belonged to in more ways than one. Did he belong in the world of the mortals, his mother's world, or the world of the immortals, his father's? Would he abide by the rules of this modern society, or the rules of the past? She didn't know, but they would make it work, like always, and the child would grow to learn what was right for him and his parents. Hades and Persephone. She wouldn't have it any other way.


	7. Ignorance Is Bliss? (Billy)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Ignorance Is _Bliss_?

Ignorance was bliss, so it was said. When you were ignorant and naïve, you refused to see the world as it was, or you did but didn't let it affect you. Normally it was because you just didn't understand. He didn't understand a _lot_, he wouldn't hesitate to admit. He'd lost an IQ test to a _shovel_ for crying out loud. Yep, he was ignorant, he was stupid, and his friends and all who knew him told him as much, but it didn't really matter to him. He didn't care. Whether ignorance was bliss, though… well, that was another matter.

He was ignorant, yes. He was blissfully ignorant when the Grim Reaper had first come to claim his pet hamster. He was blissfully ignorant when his mother had run away from home in terror after meeting said reaper. Until someone told him, he was ignorant of the fact an immortal being was in love with his Aunt, intended to marry her, and if he succeeded promptly become related to him. He was ignorant of the dangers of the Underworld, particularly of their Big Boogey Adventure. He was ignorant about the consequences of fooling around with things best left alone. He was ignorant of the fact people hated him. Bliss? No. Why? Because once he finally clued in to what was really and truly happening, it just made things that much harder.

When he found out the truth, it was as if everything he'd once believed came crashing down around him. It was as if everything he'd ever known and come to love was yanked out from under him never to be replaced, and at first he couldn't understand why. Then it would be explained, and he'd know. Oh how he'd know. He was stupid, true, but even with _his_ IQ, he'd realize how blind he'd been. He'd realize how truly idiotic and foolish he was to believe anything other than what was plainly set in front of his face, and it would hurt. It would hurt so much. You'd never guess from the way he acted. He got over the disappointment and heartbreak, and he'd move on innocent and naïve as ever. No one could ever guess that the lessons he'd learned actually _stayed_ with him. They all assumed it drained out like a sieve, but if that was so, he'd never have learned to talk, to walk, to run… to fight back. Like in Asgard. Another bout of ignorance.

At first he'd had no clue what was going on. He had no clue of the dire consequences of failure. He'd just been trying to have fun and beat everyone. He had had no clue what those who failed truly lost out on. He'd had no idea how much danger he had been in. Then it had hit him. This wasn't a game. Far from it. This was fate, destiny, death, all rolled into one. If he had lost, he would have never escaped to see the light again, only Valhalla. If he had won, it still wouldn't have mattered. He'd still be dead, albeit in a nicer place. If not for his friends, he would still be there. He would be dead. He hadn't known how dangerous the kraken truly was, he hadn't known he shouldn't have survived to see his friends and family again. In a way, ignorance saved his life, but was it bliss? No. Far, far, from it. Ignorance was painful and hard. If he weren't so ignorant, though, he would be as jaded as his friend. He didn't want to be ignorant, he just was, and he knew all too well that would never change, and he was still ignorant to whether or not that would be a blessing, or a curse.


	8. Has Been (Hoss Delgado)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Has Been

Another day, another failure, another blow to his reputation and ego. For how much longer could this carry on? For how much longer would he be able to bear the distress? He didn't know. Each failure ripped into him, stealing another part of his heart, his soul, his life. He was a spectral exterminator extraordinaire. It had been his life's goal and dream to protect the people of the world from those that could cause them grievous harm. Monsters, evils, gods, all of it. His job was his life, the very reason he got up in the morning. Now it was slipping away from him, right between his fingers.

He hadn't captured a victim for so long. In fact, he'd failed time and time again. Sure, he'd been able to fight off zombie hoards and chocolate candied minions of an insane marshmallow bunny, yet even _they_ had almost beaten him. He'd had to rely on _others_ for help, including the very creatures he'd once vowed to capture and destroy, and he'd never, ever, in his whole life wanted to have to rely on others. He worked alone, that was that. He'd wanted no help, he'd needed no help, and now… Now everything was coming apart at the seams, and he couldn't understand where he'd gone wrong. What had happened that turned him into this-this _has_ been? This forty year old man sitting here in his mother's trailer, still living at home, still dirt poor, still alone. Always alone. No successor would take _his_ name and carry it on throughout the ages.

Of course alone is how he'd chosen to live. He liked bachelorhood. The one time he'd tried for a relationship was disastrous. He had no interest in _love_ anymore, or _barely_ any. His interest lied in his work, his art. Now what? He'd lost that too, or felt as if he had. Was he a complete washout? No. Not by a long shot. He could still fight with the best of them. He could still come out victorious. Those who knew him still respected him, still knew his capabilities, at least most of them; yet it didn't help. He knew he was a shadow of his former self. He knew he had lost a lot. Maybe too much? An arm, a leg, an eye, and now he was on the verge of losing his job. No, not losing it. Giving up. It was so strange. He never gave up, but he was sick of fighting what he was. Maybe it _was_ time to settle down. He didn't want to, though. A has been. Yes, he was a has been, but he wasn't beaten yet. He would fight it until he couldn't fight it anymore. He was _not_ a quitter.


	9. Why Did She Risk Sanity Itself? (Gladys)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Why Did She Risk Sanity Itself

Sanity… Yes. Sanity. She'd long forgotten the meaning of the word. For thousands of years mankind had feared few things more than losing their sanity. To lose sanity would be to lose your sense of self. To lose your sanity would be to finally lose all control and throw yourself from a bridge, it would mean to risk doing things you would never have dreamed you could ever do. To lose your sanity would be to lose everything you once were in favour of an unstable and unpredictable life. A life full of trials and tribulations that more often than not would end in an early death.

Who would risk such a fate? What idiot would do such a thing? Her. There were other fools who had chosen that path with mind altering drugs and alcohol. There were those who were simply just _like_ that. Just born with the weight of the world thrust upon their shoulders, and they didn't deserve to suffer such destiny, but they did. Then there was her. Was she born this way? She no longer remembered. A sign of breaking from reality. There was a risk in her genes, but she hadn't been affected by it for years upon years. Some of them lay dormant and would only awaken if provoked. Had she made stupid mistakes like others had, awakening them? No, she'd never done a bad thing in her life. She was a good girl. Well, good enough. Why, then, was she so unstable? Why, then, had they woken up?

The answer was her family. The answer was her husband and her son. They drove her absolutely mad. They'd pushed her over the edge so many times with their shenanigans that she felt, she knew, she would never get back up. Her parents had warned her it would happen. They'd never liked her husband anyway. She hadn't cared, and she'd married him despite all the warnings, all the signs. She hadn't been blind to them, no. She'd seen them all. She'd known full well what would very likely happen. With her child's birth, she'd known there was no escape except one. To leave.

Why had she risked sanity itself? Why had she given up that very thing which men desperately strove to keep? Why hadn't she left husband and son behind? The answer was simple. Love. She could have left. It wouldn't have meant she didn't love them. No, she would still love them. She wouldn't have become _this_ though. She wouldn't have given up the gift of sanity. All she'd have were her regrets, but she could have pulled through them. She'd chosen to stay, though. She'd chosen to stay because she would rather lose her mind than lose _them_. And really, it would _have_ to be a love more true and pure than snow if someone would willingly give up their sanity, give up a long and healthy and 'perfect' life, so as not to lose it. And she'd never regretted it. She would _never_ leave them behind in order to spare her sanity. Let her sanity go, as long as _they_ didn't.


	10. Popularity, Love (Mindy)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: First oneshot up of two.)

Popularity, Love

Popularity was everything to her. Everything was not a word used lightly in this case, for it _was_, quite literally, her everything. It was what she breathed for. It was a sign of power, of class, of her social standing. To be included in the popular crowd and yes, even becoming the queen bee, was her whole life's goal. It was the goal of many a young girl or boy coming into a new school. Popularity meant to be loved and looked up to by everyone. Popularity meant you were the crème de la crème of the school. Popularity meant you had the most desired friends in the whole student body. Popularity meant you had friends. Popularity meant you were loved…

Oh how she needed it. Oh how she desired that feeling. Friends, love… Love… For you see, that was one thing she was seriously lacking. That was the thing she craved. To be loved. You would never guess it by looking at her, she supposed. After all, what trials and hardships could she have _possibly_ had? After all, who _couldn't_ love her? She was certainly worthy of all the love and all the friends in the world. What child _wasn't_, let alone her? What child wasn't…? Her.

Immortals there were times she could just burst into tears when she thought about it. You'd think her life was a dream, that she just floated by, carried through life by whoever she deemed fit enough to carry her. Her wealth and social standing was surely proof enough of _that_. No. It was wrong. It was all wrong. Her father doted on her, yes, spoiled her endlessly. Was it sincere, though? She no longer knew. At first it _had_ been, but now…? Now she didn't know. Every I love you that was given, was said without him even looking at her. Did he even care anymore? Her mother… Yes, her mother… What of the woman whom had brought her forth? She could almost scoff, laugh, cry… She wanted her mother's love. Immortals knew how she wanted it. She tried. Tried so hard to please her mother, but their relationship was virtually non-existent. There was no conversation to be had that didn't end in fighting, tears, and heartbreak; and she didn't know why. Why did mommy not like her? What had she done? What had estranged mother and daughter? She didn't know. She just knew that was how it was.

They never noticed. They never noticed when she was taken from them by Bunbun's curse. They never noticed when she never came back. They never noticed what she'd been doing in the underworld. They didn't care. That wasn't possible, though. Parents were supposed to care about their children. But no. It hadn't been her father and mother who had come after her. It hadn't even been her popular 'friends.' It had been Irwin, the nerd who had risked everything for her; the one who apparently loved her more than her parent's did, which was sad, considering they weren't even technically friends. Popularity was her saving grace. Popularity, friends, love… No matter how false it was, it was love; and she could deal with false love, as long as there was at least one other who truly cared. Or three. After all, Junior and Dora weren't too bad either.


	11. A Curse Upon Man (Pandora)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

A Curse Upon Man

Pandora. All gifted. She was born of a titan's handiwork, or a god's. She no longer really remembered which version was true. She had been the first female to walk upon the face of the Earth, and she had been created as nothing more than a curse upon mankind. Not so much a punishment nowadays, _was_ she. No. Men could not imagine a world without her kind _these_ days. She had been gifted by the gods and goddesses of old, each in their own time. Granted some had opted out of it, but it didn't matter. Not even close. She had been granted enough to get by. She had been granted just enough to ensure that she could make mistakes. Mistakes that, true to her purpose upon this Earth, would plunge mankind into disaster.

You see, Athena had taught her needlework and weaving, Aphrodite had showered grace and beauty upon her head. Hermes had given her speech, Athena had clothed her. Persuasion and the Charites adorned her with necklaces and jewels and perfumes whilst the Horae gifted her a garland crown. Hermes himself had named her. Everything a woman would need. Charm, grace, beauty, kindness, talent. All in all one would assume it was all good. No. Not by a long shot. For you see, besides grace and beauty, Aphrodite 'gifted' her with cruel longings and cares that wearied the limbs. Besides a name, Hermes had graced her with a shameful mind and deceitful nature. Besides speech, the same god had filled her mouth with lies and crafty words. Not so gifted now, _was_ she?

Hardly into girl hood, she had been tricked by those same cruel gods whom had only a few years before gifted her. They had tempted her, held out of reach a single forbidden object. A box. Just a box. To be forbidden from opening said box, however, was a stark contrast to how she had been created, however. They knew. They'd known that she couldn't resist. Not with those traits with which they had adorned her. It hadn't prevented them. Sure enough she had opened it, and from that box had sprung all the evil, all the wickedness and disease, that had ever been unleashed upon humanity. She had become a mother, and she was not but a mere child. Then society had spurned her, then she had been sent away, cursed to roam Earth always waiting, always looking for someone to open her box. She no longer cared about humanity. She no longer regretted making them suffer. For all the wrong they had thrust upon her they deserved as much. In that moment she had gone from compassionate and innocent to hardened and cruel. This was to be her curse was it? So be it, but she would not suffer alone. Why, then, did she beg for forgiveness in her dreams?


	12. Copycat (Creeper)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: This is the first of three oneshots that will be put up today, meant to cover the next six or seven chapters I plan on putting up of Beyond Grim And Evil today.)

Copycat

He crept through dark alleyways, stalked his victims like a cat, playing with its food, a creeper. His name was fitting for what he was, what he did, what his speciality consisted of. He was a minion of the Boogeyman, second in command only to the master of trepidation himself. He was the boogeyman's protégé, star pupil, hardest and best worker, and top critic. Some had mistaken him for fear itself, and really, it was the greatest compliment any minion of Boogey's could gain; but his own dark secret was this. He didn't want it.

Why didn't he want it? Why didn't he swell with pride at the mistake others made, confusing him for his boss? The answer was simple. Because it meant he was just a copycat. The best copycat of them all, yes, but a copycat nonetheless. It meant that his own identity was tied in so closely with fear, that he might as well _be_ Fear. A weaker version, yes, but fear nonetheless. It meant that his identity had been scrapped long ago, and been replaced with the identity of the boogeyman himself, as if they two were one and the same. But he wasn't the boogeyman. He was a shadow of Fear, a helper of fear, an agent of fear, but no more; yet he was exactly the same. He was not his own monster, his own person, his own entity; he was Boogey. And truly, there were times when even _he_ simply couldn't see himself as an entity separate from the boogeyman himself. He was just a clone, not as good as the original, but almost parallel in every way.

It would be worth it, he supposed, if his master betrayed jealousy, gave even a sign that he felt his minion was stealing his thunder, felt his minion would one day surpass him, but not even. His master watched him with a smug satisfaction, pride like that of a father or a mentor, but no more. You see, his master knew something that no one else could fully comprehend. The best way he could describe it? Well, Fear knew full well that his minion would never be him, could never even _hope_ to match up. How could he? He was not born to be terror. That birthright was not his, and never _would_ be. He was a copycat, no more no less; and though he loved his job, sometimes he wished he could reclaim his own identity once again.


	13. Lonely (Miss Butterbean)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

Lonely

To all outward appearances she was just a bored, uncaring teacher, sick of her dreary job, unable to wait until retirement. She spent the hours in class flipping lazily through books after assigning projects to her students, and then she collected her paycheck and went home. She seemed content to go through life just like that. A loner to some, and really she _didn't_ have many friends; but as previously stated, she didn't care. How she wished she cared as little as others thought, though. She was a young, beautiful woman, but with the passage of time beauty was fading. She certainly wasn't getting any _younger_. With beauty and age went chances. Chances that all too many had lost. A loving relationship, for instance; and children, not that she _wanted_ any after all _her_ years teaching. Yes, chances.

It's not that she hadn't looked. Goodness no. She'd searched. There was just no one worth her time. Rather, she wasn't worth anyone _else's_ time, beauty or _not_. Things could get lonely. Oh how she hated feeling lonely. She shouldn't hate it, oh no, she was certainly _used_ to it after all these years, but she supposed it was a natural longing for a woman in her late twenties, early thirties to want those feelings, those bonds. With time, chances and opportunities faded away. It seemed each year something else was lost.

She wryly remembered, from somewhere, probably some book she'd once read and promptly discarded, that it was proven people who were married lived longer lives than people who were not. Just wonderful. So she would have a shorter life than most. She could deal with that, right? After all, it wasn't like _her_ life was going anywhere fast. She didn't want to die, though. Not any earlier than was absolutely necessary. She'd wanted a long life. True, by now she'd thought she would be married, that she would have that extra incentive to push harder, but life didn't always go the way you planned. So what? She didn't need the extra incentive. If she was destined to be alone, she should at _least_ be granted the goal of a long life, worthwhile or not. It didn't mean, though, that she wanted to spend the time she had left lonely. Perhaps that was what frightened her most about this empty life.


	14. Why Did He Run? (Nergal)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Third up today. Honestly one of the darker oneshots I've written so far.)

Why Did He Run?

The lonely loser from the Earth's core. That's how he was known. The man who ran away from home every time he lost a game or every time things got more complicated than he felt like handling. Why did he run? That's what they all wanted to know, and loved to speculate on. Was he just a big baby? Was he spoiled, selfish, a coward, weak? Why did he run? Was he just so lame and pathetic he couldn't take a challenge? Why did he run? The answer? He had no choice.

He was an ancient Sumero-Babylonian god. He'd lived for thousands upon thousands of years. For thousands upon thousands of years he had watched the world change, he had had idea upon idea implanted in his brain. Ideas he'd grown up with and lived by. Why did he run? Because when things got bad, his impulses fought to break through the surface. What was his impulse? Well, one had only to look at the tentacles on his back. One had only to see him truly angry.

They would have the answer then. Oh how they would have it. A cruel and merciless deity. For thousands of years the gods and goddesses were the bosses. There was no exception. They were used to getting their way, and more often than not, the gods took priority to the goddesses. He didn't like defiance. He didn't like disrespect. He was mild, usually, but there were times when his temper flared at the thought of defiance or disobedience. With his temper came the tentacles. With his temper came the domineering persona.

He dreaded to think of what would happen if he truly lost his temper. He feared what he would do if he _didn't_ leave his family behind. One could never tell just by looking at him, nor could those who knew him best. No, this was _his_ dark secret, for he knew that if he stayed and never ran, he would beat his wife and son senseless, to within an inch of their lives. Oh how he would. The tentacles reacted to order as well as feelings. They showed no mercy. _He_ showed no mercy. Not during the ancient days, nor the present. He knew that if he stayed when he felt angry, his family would suffer. That was the way of old.

He would beat them into submission, lock them away, or punish them in such severe ways he shuddered to think on it. That was what the gods did. That was what Zeus himself had once done to Hera. Mortals and demi-gods were delicate creatures, to be treated with the utmost care. So, knowing his true power, his true ability, he masked fury with misery. He masked screaming and shouting with weeping and sobbing. He masked beatings with running. So why did he run away? Because to stay would mean to face the monster he hid, the creature he truly was. For how much longer, though, could he fight his nature?


	15. Powerful (Pinface)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Powerful

He was powerful. There was no denying that fact. Confronted by Billy and Mandy in Billy's house, he was completely unconcerned, even amused. Mandy's attempts at threats had no effect on him whatsoever. In fact, he'd almost laughed. He had a goal and he was determined to see it through. Grim himself couldn't banish him back to his home. The scythe had no effect, which was truly spectacular seeing as it was almost all powerful. He had been able to banish the reaper himself without breaking a sweat. Why had he done it? He'd had his reasons. Leave it at that. Really, though, could it be left? He supposed he could blame insecurity, though one would never guess he could even _feel_ such an emotion, given the way he flaunted his powers shamelessly. He did feel it, though, really. Not that he was ashamed of who or what he was. Not that he would resort to drastic measures just to get rid of the pins sticking out of his head. In fact, if not for those pins he wasn't sure, exactly, whether or not he'd even _be_ as powerful as he was. Why blame insecurity and self-consciousness, however, when he knew full well it wasn't those things that had turned him on Grim, on the world.

Honor wasn't a word he'd apply to himself, his kind, or his family. Humiliation was a part of life; disappointment and hurt were all just life. They played no favorites. Everyone felt them. _He'd_ certainly felt them enough. Those who were different weren't exactly treated well. His hopes for relationships and true, long lasting friendships had all but disappeared in that place which sucked all individuality and spirit from its patrons. Yes, high school. He'd dealt with such things in his own way. He'd become friends with Grim, one of the underdogs. He'd followed in Boogey's footsteps like a shadow, taking cues from the very one who picked on _him_ as _well_. He'd become a bully in his own right, yet still remained an underdog, friends with the Grim Reaper, though more than once he'd nearly thrown that away. He'd been fine with it. It was all in his pursuit for power after all. His choices gave him power. Power was good. _Very_ good. He'd accomplished it all right, even becoming a privileged immortal. He held his own against gods, though he wasn't nearly stupid enough to defy them. He was getting away from his reasoning, though. Back to honor. Back to humiliation, back to grudges.

As already established, honor wasn't worth his time. Humiliation had long stopped having an effect on him. Yet somehow both had led to the deepest grudges and most desperate power struggles he'd ever had. Struggles that had ended in his entrapment within a rubix cube, of all things, by his onetime friend's own hand. How did that happen? Simple. His sister. Yes, his baby sister, a popular girl in high school, or _had_ been. She was pretty enough. She had friends, despite the same physical trait he had. Bowling pins. Her life was better than _his_ had been through school. She had never known humiliation all her life, nor had she known dishonor or betrayal. No one dared try. Not with _him_ lurking in the shadows, semi-outcast and semi-underdog or not. He had his own little following, after all. Not really friends, but those who sided with him. Then it had all came crashing down around them.

Grim had left her. That worthless bag of bones, his _friend_, had hurt his sister; left her, humiliated her. Why? Because her pins prevented him from kissing her without pain. Please. As if death could feel pain. She'd come home weeping, and he'd been furious. He supposed his fall at the reaper's hand had been partly his own fault. After all, she hadn't sent him after Grim. He'd gone himself. She'd tried to stop him. As if. He'd taken on powers he couldn't overcome, despite how powerful he had gotten by that time, and he'd fallen victim to the very kinds of immortals he'd never been stupid enough to turn on before. Being powerful had meant nothing, he'd lost, and now this grudge was burning in his mind, and it wouldn't be forgotten. So be it. He would deal with it. After all, he had only become more powerful over time.


	16. Humiliate, Betray, Guilt (Pinface's sis)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

Humiliation, Betrayal, Guilt

Humiliation. It was an emotion she'd never thought she'd feel. Betrayal. It was the last thing she'd imagined she'd experience. Guilt… How could she have known it would end the way it had? She never meant it to happen, _never_. Humiliation. She'd felt it when he had left her. Who? The Grim Reaper. She'd never in a million years expected to get involved with _him_, but things had happened, and at the mall events had spiralled, and she'd fallen under that underdog's spell. Her, a popular girl, involved with the Grim Reaper? As if. It had happened though, and it hadn't been _her_ that left _him_.

Betrayal. It had been the unpopular bag of bones that had left her. She'd begged him not to, for you see she really _had_ fallen for him. She still didn't understand why he'd left her. She sensed her brother knew, but he'd never told. He'd turned affections to Eris once more, or tried. As if Eris could be bothered. She had sensed that betrayal coming from a mile away. She'd tried so hard to make it work, but there had been a side of Grim she'd never realized until too late. Cruelty, evil, traits that rivalled even _Eris'_. He had no heart. Literally. She'd found that out too late. She'd returned home weeping. She had wanted to die. For once she had given her heart to someone, and she'd had a _lot_ of suitors before, and he'd rejected her. She supposed she deserved as much, if high school was any indicator, but still. Then came the guilt…

Guilt. It was a feeling she'd desperately tried to banish. She hated guilt. Guilt hurt more than heartbreak. You see, her brother had seen her. He'd seen her tears. He'd seen her misery, her regret, humiliation, and anguish; and that day she'd discovered something about yet another person close to her that she'd never known existed. Her big brother knew pity, he knew family honor, he knew hatred and fury, he knew irrationality. He'd held her close as she cried until she stopped, then wordlessly he turned to leave. She'd demanded to know why, and in so many words he'd told her. Right then she'd known her mistake. She'd begged him not to, to reconsider. For all his power, Pinface couldn't hope to defeat the raw power of Death. He'd rejected the advice, and he'd left despite her pleas.

Guilt and worry had crushed her until she could hardly breathe. As she'd waited for his return, she'd certainly cursed herself enough times for opening up. He'd returned, all right, but not in the way he should have. He returned, a part of who he was, what he loved, stolen from him. He'd been forced back. He'd tried to escape. She'd heard him cursing the reaper, trying, and she'd realized in that instant that freedom had been robbed from him. Torn away maliciously. He couldn't escape. No matter what he'd tried he couldn't reach the surface, couldn't do anything. Guilt. He hadn't spoken to her on his entrance. When she'd finally dared speak, he'd assured her he didn't regret it. Lies. He may not have regretted standing up for her, but he regretted losing freedom. He'd regretted the betrayal he had instilled and suffered himself.

There it was. A carefree life taken away and replaced with bitterness and emotions she'd hated, including longing, for you see she'd never fully gotten over the reaper. For _her_ mistake her _brother_ had paid. For her own selfishness he'd suffered. What made it all the worse was that she wouldn't erase the event, despite how desperately she wished he hadn't paid the price. For the reaper to know she carried a grudge she'd never let go of gave her satisfaction. For the reaper to know there was another he would have to watch out for the rest of his life made her happy. Yet she still wanted him, she still wanted her brother's freedom returned, but then she'd always wanted her cake and been able to eat it too. For now she had to bear it, but who knew? Perhaps in time things would change.


	17. A Child (Fred Fredburger)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

A Child's Thoughts

Stupid, annoying, bane of society, naïve, foolish, simple. These were all words with which he was labelled. There were others like adorable, sweet, and innocent, but they were rarely brought to light. Why _should_ they be when the bad outweighed the good? At least that was the impression he got. He got impressions? He could actually tell what others thought? He had an opinion? Surprising, wasn't it? But he regularly voiced his opinions. He couldn't understand why people didn't think he had the brains to come up with any. He liked nachos, he liked frozen yogurt, he liked his mama's cookies, fun, fair rides, games, and spelling his name. He liked chanting it over and over, along with the word 'yes.' He found the justice system fascinating, really the only academic interest he'd ever had. How could people assume he didn't have a voice, an opinion? How could people think he understood so little of life?

He'd never argue that. Oh no. He _was_ naïve and innocent. He really _didn't_ know much about life. He had the mentality of a child, a toddler, but even children felt. Even children could understand things. He understood how much the judge hated him. It made him sad. He knew how much his fellow juror member detested his presence. He knew how much people abhorred him. He tried to get them to like him, he really did, but he just couldn't. Except Jeffy, that is; and his fellow Underfist teammates. Well, Jeffy and the nerd cared. Didn't think he even _knew_ mean words like nerd, _did_ they? Oh he knew them. He'd been called mean things enough times. Then there was the indifferent one, the guy with the chainsaw body parts who acted like he was cold and hateful and prejudiced, but even _he_ cared sometimes. Then there was the one he couldn't read, and didn't trust for the life of him, despite the fact he'd saved them all. General Skarr. Didn't think he couldn't trust, did they? But he could, and when he trusted, people knew it.

He trusted barely anyone. You'd never tell from the way he acted, opening himself up to everyone, appearing carefree and oblivious. The truth was there, though. Down below he had no friends. He spoke to no one unless spoken to, except for the judge, his mama, and his juror mate. Why did he? Because he trusted _them_. Despite their contempt he trusted them. They were monsters going about their own lives, yet in them lay the power to protect him, avenge him, defend him. They were bound by law, and in his mother's case, love, to stay by his side. Up above the blonde girl had no interest in his life or what happened. The stupid one with the cap who rivalled even _him _was fully prepared to have him as a friend. His nerdy teammate was one of his closest friends. The spider was his best friend ever. The exterminator… he wasn't sure exactly where he sat, but it was leaning more towards trust. The General? Not a chance in Hades, Irkalla, Asgard, and the other down below countries. He was _forced_ to trust the _General_. He'd made mistakes in trust before, though.

He would never claim to be smart. He would never claim to be not naïve. He was no more than a young child, in a way. Hardly older than five, if _that_ even. Children, though, could sense things. Children could understand their world and who to trust. Children could be cautious, and clever. He was wary, and he was foolish, but it had served him fine throughout his life, and he had no intention of changing any faster than he _would_. Sometimes, though, he _wished_ he could grow up and know everything. Just so he wouldn't be hated and despised anymore.


	18. Fallen King (Dracula)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: There might be more posted today, but I'm not sure. Depends on how I feel.)

Fallen King

Once he had been great. Stories had been spun for generations upon generations of him. His origins, his cruelty, his lust. Bloodlust, that is. For hundreds of years people had cowered in fear of him. Count Vlad Dracule. Or something like that. He'd long ago forgotten his given name in favor of that which they now dubbed him. Dracula. King of the vampires. An old folk story, a figure that lay in wait in a coffin, slumbering in a death that had come far, far too soon, if he recalled correctly, that is. Then night fell, and from that cursed slumber he would rise to wreak havoc upon the Earth, blending in as if he were as normal as anyone else. Except…

Except there was no reflection. Except the women who fell for him were never seen again, and if they were… Well, you get the picture. Except he couldn't be near garlic, certain water, and the sight of a steak horrified him. Not the stake you eat, fool! The wooden one, his phobia. That sharp pointy stick that had been a source of so many of his nightmares; the source of too many near death experiences. The way he'd once disposed of his victims, before he had become… well, _this_. Impaling them upon wooden stakes and watching them slowly bleed out, sometimes for hours, as he ate and watched. He wouldn't say he didn't regret his past, for there were some things he'd very much regretted, but the past was just that; the past. He'd paid for it. A thousand times over he'd paid for it. Then, however, he'd relished in it. Relished in his new form, his new power despite the weaknesses. He couldn't see the sun or feel it upon his skin. To feel it would mean torment like no other. Still, it was worth the power; and over time he had become used to the rays.

Then time had passed. Then he had grown old. Once, long ago, vampires had trembled in fear at the sound of his name. As predators hunting in packs, they moved in order to let their ruler, their king, in for the first feast. He had seen centuries on centuries of the world's pain, and their fear of him. Now he was glorified in movies and media. Was he what he'd once been, though? No. Not by a long shot. Others no longer made room for him to pass. _Him_; their emperor, their leader, their… their _father_; for he had brought each one to light. Now they scorned and mocked him. He was an old geezer. He was passed his prime. It was about time the king stepped down. Like Hades he would.

He would never give up this title until his dying day; and someday, somehow, he would make his minions, his children, pay for their treachery, their disrespect. He wasn't completely over the hill yet. He was immortal, or nearly. One of the only things that could kill him was the steak through the heart, but it wouldn't happen. It couldn't. He would never allow it. One day he would regain his title, and they would tremble again; and the long fallen King of the Vampires would rise once more. He just wished he was still young enough to enjoy it.


	19. Blessing Or Curse? (Jack O'Lantern)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

Blessing Or Curse?

There were those who said immortality was a curse. There were stories on stories of mortals who had gained the gift only to end up regretting it, and never able to go back. Years passed, loved ones died, friends were made, relationships revived, only to be torn away once more; for not everyone was blessed with immortality. Now it was established it was a blessing, now it was established it was a curse. Which _was_ it?

_He'd_ wanted it. Oh how he'd wanted it... Death had never appealed to him. He had lived during the period of the Renaissance. He had lived and seen people burned at the stake, tortured to death, falsely put on trial and accused of things such as witchcraft. He'd watched public mass executions. He'd seen kings overthrown, people beheaded. He had heard and witnessed the Black Plague, the Salem Witch Trials, the French Revolution. Of course, at this point he wasn't sure what occurrences had happened when he was still mortal and which ones had happened later, or even if they were all around the same time.

He was surrounded by death as he grew; death and hard work. Yet still, he'd found time to play, to have fun, to mess around with people's heads. Pranks were his specialty; and goodness knew, in _those_ days laughter was definitely a blessed relief. The mass executions, the burials, the wars, had never really affected him. He'd chosen to block it all out. Besides, the town in which he'd lived was quiet and peaceful. Why should he care what happened with the rest of the world? It was beyond help anyway. Of course, he'd gotten carried away. Things became more and more intense as the passage of time went on, for there was more and more reason to block out events. People didn't live long, and children, even adults, were orphaned far too young. There was more and more reason to block out images… Images… He'd thought he would escape them forever with his pranks, jokes, his mirth; and truly he _was_ carefree and go lucky. The ability for the mind to block out undesirable events was uncanny. Rarely were they dragged back to the surface either... So much for _that_...

GAoBaM

He'd gone too far. All at once he was thrust into the position so many innocents before him had been tossed into. Falsely accused of a crime worthy of death. And Death had come. He'd known instantly what had happened. However, long ago he'd vowed he wouldn't become one of those sorry saps who couldn't mind their own business, follow rules, stay under the radar, all that, and ended up dead. He wasn't about to break that vow. So he'd cheated the Grim Reaper. It had been almost too easy. He'd expected more of a challenge. Hah. Through this means he had gained immortality, had gained the ability to play pranks for all eternity. Unfortunately, there was a catch. Turns out Grimmy hadn't been as imbecilic as he'd thought, and all at once he was short a head. All at once all the images, all the memories he had buried for so long, sprang back up in vivid detail. Every gory sight had been revealed in clarity that could only be likened to the sight of the gods; and he'd been horrified. Not only were these things all pulled up, but now he couldn't prank them away. Now he couldn't go out whenever he felt like it and have a laugh at another's expense, for the world was not understanding, the world was unforgiving, and so he was forced to suffer all year round except for _one_ day a year.

Back to the original question. Was immortality a blessing or a curse? It would have been a blessing. Oh how it would have been a blessing. Unfortunately things hadn't gone according to plan, and so with one fell swoop blessing had become curse. It wasn't so much that immortality sucked. It was more along the lines of immortality without a head sucked. He wanted to live forever. He did. He just didn't want the ramifications that went with it. One day, though, he would have his revenge. One day soon. His enemies would feel what he had, and he would be satisfied once more. In time... And really, he had forever to wait.


	20. Goddess (Eris)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: First up today. There will be one more as well. Reviews for these oneshots are appreciated.)

Goddess

She had been called goddess before. Of course that was exactly what she was, but she didn't mean in _that_ context. Goddess, in this context, meant beautiful, divine, more wondrous than anything else, and mysterious. Goddess was a term of endearment, expressing a man's hopelessly devoted love for a woman. She had been called goddess before, many, many, times. She'd scoffed each time. If there was one thing she knew, besides chaos of course, it was true devotion; truth behind statements and words. If there was one thing she could judge, besides glorious chaos, strife, and discord, it was when something was said for no reason other than to trick and seduce weak willed females, immortal and mortal both. Weak willed females who would take affection from whoever possible, whenever possible, and fancied themselves in love with the first boyfriend. She was _not_ one of those weak willed ones.

She would _not_ be lured in by terms of endearment that were as false as wax figurines. She would _not_ give herself to the first male who flattered her. Others puzzled on how she could have possibly remained a single goddess for so long, for contrary to popular belief she had never really _had_ a serious boyfriend. Or _any_ boyfriend for that matter, apart from Hoss. After all, who could believe one of the most beautiful goddesses on Olympus would avoid love from all suitors who pressed her? It was really quite easy. There was no one she was truly interested in. Those whom she _might_ have been had proven themselves less than desirable. What gave them away? False terms of love, such as goddess. Never had she heard that word spoken to her with all sincerity.

Gods were fickle, few could remain forever loyal. Mortals were a waste of time, for they lived barely a second according to the immortal timeline. Her love was reserved for the chaos she showered upon the earth, all the strife and discord. Of course she had made mistakes before. False accusations, lies told that had ended in misery and suffering for the very mortals whom she ruled over. It wasn't that any of them were particularly fond of her. You wouldn't see them calling on chaos or sacrificing to chaos for the heck of it. If they wanted something, yes, but there was no other reason to. It wasn't like she was a very lovable deity. She had learned to overlook her mistakes, however. Mortals deserved no less. If they couldn't take the heat, then too bad for _them_. There _were_ regrets, though. How could she deny _that_ much? She was a goddess, never to die, and one could not possibly go through an immortal life forever without regret.

There were false loves, there were false friends. Lovers wanted not her, but her body. They wanted power, not love. Of course she would never claim to be a fan of love. She had toyed around with Hoss for a while, amusing herself. She had tossed the idea of actually trying for a relationship around, and had dabbled with it. Of course, by then he had had enough of her, and he was through with her. Insolent mortal. He didn't know what he was missing. In all honesty, love wasn't her thing. She loved her freedom, she loved her singleness. After all, she had all eternity. Friends, what of _them_? As if. Friends weren't her cup of tea. In high school she had been popular, surrounded by those who adored her, followed her, tried to be like her, befriended her. Befriended. As if. They had joined themselves to her in the hopes of winning favor in the eyes of others. She couldn't be bothered rejecting them, but they were so weak, so unexciting. She was a _goddess_! Ugh her 'friends' had disgusted her with their weak attempts to _be_ something. She was drawn to power, to chaos, to discord, to excitement. None of them provided it. At least, not anyone who were dubbed worth looking at twice. There was a rare exception, of course, but _very_ rare. She was not drawn to these ones, such as Pinface's sister.

That was where mistakes came in. There was power unlike any other encased in the school. Fear was a powerful thing, after all, and Boogey had proved it often. Pain was respected and avoided, Lord Pain. Oh how he could work those talents, though not popular, _or_ in one of the other worthwhile cliques. She supposed she could have attached herself to those two, but there was the fact she couldn't stand them. She had never considered not getting involved with them a mistake, oh no. What she _did_ consider a mistake, though, was overlooking those with whom the _true_ power lie. Ironically, power lay with the lowest of the low. Power had lain in the underdogs, and two in particular. Power had lain wrapped up in a black cloak shrouding a skeletal form. Power had lain bound up in the biggest loner and loser of the _school_. The Grim Reaper and Nergal. Oh, she'd seen their power. How could she, a _goddess_, miss it? She hadn't been a fool. But of course it would have been social suicide to so much as _speak_ to them. And really, what else could be expected? In high school she had been vain, she had been blind. She'd known their power, but she couldn't bother with them, instead victimizing them. It was only long after graduation that she'd looked back and started questioning herself.

Of course the past was the past. No changing it now. But often she'd wondered… What would it have been like to join herself to them? Nergal had proven himself a gentleman. He knew how to treat a woman. What if she'd given him a chance? What if? She'd known the reaper had had a crush on her… No. It had gone far deeper than that. He had been in love with her…She wondered now, what would have happened had she given him a chance? What would it have been like to be called goddess by one who actually meant it with all his heart? What would it have been like to feel true love? What if? Of course that was all said and done. Even if she _wanted_ him, he'd moved on. Mistakes, regrets, questions... She had led a shallow life. She was a goddess, as beautiful and wild and free as she was cold, conceited, and disdainful. And she was completely alone. There were times she regretted the course her life had taken. Mistakes she couldn't take back, opportunities long wasted, yet it had been a life she would never throw away, given the chance; because while she regretted it, she also loved it.


	21. For Whom The Bells Toll (Grim)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

For Whom The Bells Toll

_Clang_! _Clang_! _Clang_!_ Clang_!

There it was.

_Clang_!

His call to duty.

_Clang_! For whom the bell tolls…

_Clang_!

GAoBaM

The clanging of the bell had been used for centuries. The bell meant many things. Time for school to start, meal time, executions, ceremonies. However, this bell wasn't tolling for any of those things.

_Clang_!

This bell was tolling to inform the citizens that a funeral was about to take place. Some said that the bell was tolled for the soul of the deceased, or one time per life if there were multiples, like if some disaster had happened. That wasn't true.

_Clang_!

This bell was calling to _him_. It was calling him from his slumber, summoning him to the cemetery, the garden of remembrance, in which many believed he lived...

GAoBaM

I have become Death, shatterer of worlds. Look into my face and see doom and eternal despair, thou foul sinner. I come for _thee_! It was a phrase he used often, whenever confronting said deceased; for truly there was no mortal who was considered blameless. They were all worthless, wastes of space. If anything it was a gift when they passed on.

_Clang_!

At least, that was how he _once_ felt. There was a time he didn't care. Their loved ones would wail, would mourn, would try to plead for their dearly beloved. They themselves would try and cheat him or deal with him. Few succeeded. They would offer him anything and everything if they could hold onto life a little longer. He would laugh. He would laugh in the face of mourners, would laugh in the face of the victims. No more. No more. There were, of course, times when he took pity on the loved ones or victim; when he made certain allowances. Against the rules of course, for he didn't _kill_ them, he just took them; and master of the forces or not, he wasn't supposed to go against the Grae. The fates.

_Clang_!

He'd been in the world of the mortals now for too long. He had lived amongst them, as one of them, and as much as he'd tried to deny it at first, it was becoming obvious that it was making him soft. He hated feeling soft. It didn't suit a god of death. Pity didn't work for Death. He had been witness to the misery of countless ages. He had seen the agony of millennia on millennia. Anyone else would have broken long ago. Not him. Never him. Death was what he was born to be, born to take the sadness and disaster that befell the mortal coil. He was cruel, rather _could_ be. He could be gentle and kind, he had before, playing it up. The years had jaded him to everything, calloused him to human emotion, and with one loss to a girl and a boy, all he had hidden away had been forced back up into the forefront of his memory. And now he wondered how he had never understood it. How he had never seen it. How he had never noticed the love passed from one to another through a touch, a word, a gesture, a look... a held hand... Now he knew... Oh how well he knew... And the accompanying thoughts terrified him.

_Clang_!


	22. Who Was He? (Irwin)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Who Was He?

That was the question he'd so often asked himself. Who was he? Ever since finding out he was the grandson of a vampire. Even then he'd been able to shove it away, for a time. The question was always there, but it wasn't pressing on his mind. He hardly ever wondered if he still had any werewolf left in him anymore. At least not until the Underfist incident. Not until Bunbun had informed him thusly of his true power, of what he held, of what he could do, of what his fate and destiny could very well be. Until then he'd never thought much on his full power. He was half mummy, quarter vampire, quarter human, and a dash of werewolf. He could age; he wasn't immortal, despite the far dominant amount of immortal blood. Nothing mattered. And then the transformation had begun.

He'd felt evil welling up inside of him. Cruelty that matched even the cynical girl who was the principle object of his affections. He'd felt power brewing, and for a moment had wanted to kill everyone and everything around him. Then the good his father had so long ago instilled in him came back to the surface. Then he fought back. Fought against the urge, the transformation, everything. And he'd won. He'd won. He so rarely won anything it was ridiculous. Now he'd beaten evil. He had transformed into this-this _thing_. Wrapped in mummy's bandages, wings and teeth of a vampire, and he hadn't _dared_ go out in a full moon to see if that werewolf power still existed or not. If it did, though, if it did… He could be the most powerful human being on Earth. Question was, did he _want_ to be?

On the one hand, _she_ loved power. No matter her hatred for someone, no matter if there was no love between them and she loved another, she would marry a person for the power. On the other hand, the power scared him, for he didn't know what fate would befall the world if ever he should lose his control. He didn't want to be the monster. He didn't want them to know. The only person who knew was his crush's arch enemy. The popular young girl whom he had risked everything and anything to save, for a reason he yet could not understand; and wasn't sure he wanted to, for it would change everything to think it, a large part of who he was. She had been grateful and awed, and she had kept quiet. He thanked her every day for _that_. Yet it hadn't freed him from his confusion. Who was he? What was he capable of? It was a mystery he longed to have the answer to. It was a mystery he didn't want to solve.


	23. Bound To Anguish (Lord Pain)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

Bound To Anguish

He thrived on it. He was its embodiment. If _it_ ceased to exist, so would he. It was his body, his soul, his very makeup. It was who he was, _what_ he was, it was his very immortality. He was a god in his own right, yet not classified among deities; for there were next to no exceptions in which a deity's life could end. Perhaps that was one of the few things separating the Evils, his 'brothers' and 'sisters' and him, from becoming gods themselves. They had a very specific end. If something ceased to exist, so did they. If hunger was put to an end, Starvation would die. If wars ceased to exist, so would War, but not Ares or Mars, oh no. If fear ceased to exist, so would Fear. And pain… if pain came to an end, so would he.

Was he worried about death? He _shouldn't_ be, _that_ was for sure. After all, what were the chances that pain would ever be wiped from the face of the Earth? Zero, or close. It didn't stop him from worrying though. You see, already some of them had nearly been taken away, left comatose or dead because that was just how things had gone. Nearly. Not completely. Sacrifice, for instance. In almost all parts of the world Sacrifice had been wiped out. In fact, he hardly could recall the last time such tales had reached his ears; yet somewhere it was happening, however weakly, for Sacrifice, his sibling, had not completely vanished from his senses, just lay on the verge of death, frightened and weak, but still moving.

He had been birthed from the womb of a box; Pandora's box. He and his 'siblings' had become 'children' to one who was a mere child herself. Only a handful had taken on body's, lives independent of the wind and invisible forms. He had been one. Why? Because before he could freely vanish, his 'mother' had experienced him, and that had brought him forth, a mere infant. Helpless, weak, growing only on the pain of the world that steadily increased with his age. Whether it had grown because _he_ had, or he had grown because _pain_ had was still unclear to him. Either way his soul was linked to anguish, and if either of them vanished, so would agony.

Was he pleased with this bonded spirit? Was he content to be what he was? He would honestly have to say yes. Why should he hate himself? His power was undeniable, his position and name unmistakable, and world round he was respected by all, almost. Still, it never shook the feelings of uncertainty, the feeling his life could end in a moment if the gods so chose it to; nor did it shake the feelings of an orphan and eldest brother. For now, though, he would keep such thoughts far from him. To think on them could mean regret.


	24. Rule The World (Hector Con Carne)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Sorry about the long wait. Internet was down last week. I'll put up as many of these today as I can. There are also six or so new chapters of the sister story up as well.)

He Would Someday Rule The World!

He would someday rule the world. He would someday rule the world! It was a vow he had made to himself long ago. A vow he planned to keep. It was his life's _goal_! He was the orchestrator of an international 'terrorist,' laugh, laugh, organization. His plans were brilliant, well laid out. His men, granted they weren't the bravest or strongest and couldn't shoot to save their lives, were a great power, and under his General's command, a force to be reckoned with. If they _hadn't_ been, his organization would have fallen apart _eons_ ago. His Major Doctor's inventions were sheer brilliance in every way, and virtually fool proof. He was more than adept to take over once and for all. Why hadn't he then?

Years and years, and he still hadn't kept his promise. He couldn't even keep the oath he'd made to _himself_, so how could he keep his vows to those around him? How could he gain and continue to possess the world if he couldn't even keep a promise to _himself_? What prevented his vision from becoming reality? What forces dared stand in his way? Well, the lack of a body over which he kept his own control, for one. Instead he had to rely on a stupid circus bear; albeit said bear came in handy in his own way, sometimes. Greater forces, though, consisted of other villains bent on world domination. Other villains determined to steal his plans and ideas. Other villains who envied him and longed to possess the power and riches _he_ did. Who else? The governmental, anti-terrorism organization SPORK, with their stupid fish leader. Those bent on bankrupting him and buying him out. Anything more? Yes. Perhaps the highest force of them all. The loss of his greatest and only General.

When his paramilitary General had left, the man had taken far more than at first was thought. With the General went his greatest oppressor, his coldest critic, his potential traitor, his motivation. Yes, for to sense the complete and utter loathing and distain emanating from the General, it had driven him to push himself to the extreme. From plans ranging brilliant, to so stupid it might actually work, he tried it all. All of this in order to prove one man wrong. When that man had left, so had his inspiration. His Major had stayed, and he thanked the gods _she_ hadn't left as well. To lose his General and Major _both_ would have permanently crippled his organization. Without them he could never take on the world. He had first thought that, even with only _her_ he could continue on, for she believed in him with her whole heart. She supported him. He was proven sorely, sorely wrong.

He was the richest most powerful jillionaire on the Earth. He had everything he needed for a hostile takeover. He had the army, who at least had held onto _some_ of their General's teaching; he had the technology and money, but there was nothing left to come up with. His motivation was gone, and without motivation, he could never claim what he believed to be his. He would someday rule the world… One day his motivation would return with a vengeance, and he would pick up where he left off. At least that's what he kept telling himself. That's what he kept promising to himself. He would someday rule the world… He had to. Just, not now.


	25. Nature (Cataclysma)

**Beyond**_** Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today. Notes on bottom.)

Nature

Nature was her power. Nature was what she controlled and bent at will. It was unnatural, yes, for mortal beings were not to control the powers of nature. It was beyond their limitation, they expectations, the rules set by the gods of old. So sue her. It wasn't like it was _her_ fault she had been blessed with such strength. Love was a powerful catalyst, though, and oh how deeply, desperately, she'd loved nature. She envied the goddesses and gods of nature. Nature was a precious gift, powerful, beautiful, and underplayed. Just like her. And so she loved it and sympathized with it.

They said she was weak. Her fellow villains had never considered her much of a threat. They hadn't respected her, hadn't found her worthwhile, they had dared say she wasn't even a real super villain. A certain General had even taunted her, going so far to ask her what she was going to do about his insults, drizzle him to death, curse him with a cloudy day. Skarr had paid for those words dearly. It was pathetic and demeaning, though, coming from a man who loved gardening and pigeons. The only villain who held any respect for her whatsoever was Con Carne. Yes, Hector had seen her for her worth, at least, when no one else had. He'd accepted her as powerful, hadn't dared go against her. He had, after all, invited her to join the League Of Destruction. Though it was a failure, he had only invited the best of the best, the most elite, and she had been the first one he'd called out to. For that, she hadn't had as much of a problem with him being leader as the others, though she hadn't been impressed either.

The forces of nature were not to by toyed with, not to be taken lightly. When thinking nature, they thought wind, rain, clouds, plants, but there was so much more to it. Nature did not only hold incredible beauty, but also incredible force. Hurricanes, tornados, tsunami's, earthquakes, and that was just to name a few. Lighting and thunder, quicksand, animals, all of it was hers to command. The immortal deity's could suck it up whenever she used said powers. One day she would have her chance to prove it. One day it would not be only Hector who believed in her. One day her fellow villains would respect her and accept her. One day she would take over the Earth and all its bounty. Until then, though, she would be content with what she had. Until her time came to prove herself, she would wait.

(A/N: If you guessed who this was, I will be highly impressed. Especially since this character only showed up in one episode of Evil Con Carne. For that reason, I'll tell you which character it is. When Hector formed a band of villains, one of them was a young woman named Cataclysma, who held control over nature. Hector must have seen _something_ worthy in her if he called her to join him. Since Skarr disdained her, and I think one or two of the others did as well, I assumed she wasn't thought of as very worthy by anyone but Hector.)


	26. Beauty (Estroy)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Third up today. Let's be honest, there had to be _some_ reason he called them his sons and they called him dad. He didn't seem like the type to just randomly take some employees under his wing as a father figure.)

Beauty

His IQ was through the roof. His IQ surpassed that of even Hector's. He was a genius, and he was dead serious about taking over the world. Just as Con Carne was. It was more a race between them, than anything, to see who finally won. He wondered at how he _hadn't_ yet. After all, Cod Commando wasn't after _him_. Perhaps it was because he wanted to wait. Wait for what, or who? Wait for someone to rule by his side. It was no secret he was deeply infatuated with the Major in his fellow villains army. He'd never try to hide that little fact. He would even dare go as far as to say he loved her. Of course, she would never return those feelings. She was mad for her boss. Poor girl. No. Poor _him_.

He would never admit how offended, upset… even hurt, he was that she didn't love him back; though after the slumber party incident his affections had died, however slightly, due to her obnoxious antics. Of course they'd come back with a vengeance later. Anyway, it was moments like that when he longed to remove the metal helmet hiding his true form. Beauty the intensity of which was almost unmatched. Perhaps then she would accept him. Not that she was completely shallow, no, but beauty like his wasn't to be underestimated. You'd think he'd be vain about it, but no. Instead he chose to hide it. He wasn't entirely sure why. Ashamed of it? Afraid it would be too simple then, almost cheating? Perhaps. Of course, there was no guarantee she'd accept him _then_, either. Why would he be ashamed of his beauty, you ask? Beauty which many would die for? Well, people had killed themselves for less than rejection. Rejection by _him_, however… He was a villain, yes, death didn't affect him much, but still. It was a little odd.

There had been only one affair before the major doctor. The one that had resulted in two sons, twins, who had been born to him. Hey, you didn't think he called them sons for no _reason_, did you? Please. He wouldn't be bothered. Things were what they were. There was one woman before Ghastly whom he hadn't charmed simply for personal gain. She was no more, however, and how it had happened he was no longer quite sure. He knew he never rejected her purposely. He was fairly certain it hadn't been the birth of the children that had killed her. Perhaps it had been by his own hand? He was a villain, after all, and prenatal depression was known to make some women insane to the point they killed their own children. And of course, biologically a parent loved their child more than their mate. Not that he'd ever admit to loving the idiots. You certainly wouldn't guess they were _his_. He didn't choose to look back then, though, for fear of what he'd find. He'd idealized the woman. He'd never thought she'd do something like that. He still doubted it, but trauma had blocked out worse things, so he wouldn't go there. Instead he would focus on the object of his affections. Until there was no hope left for him to get her, he would keep after her, because that, at least, gave him hope, and kept his thoughts at bay.

(A/N: There really was an episode when Estroy's face was revealed. When Ghastly asked him what was beneath his helmet he answered her saying something like beneath the helmet was such intense beauty etc. I can't remember exactly, but not until the end did you see it.)


	27. Principles Denied (Major Doctor Ghastly)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Fourth up today.)

Principles Denied

What had she done? Oh immortals what had she done? Why was she even asking? She _knew_ what she had done. She had abandoned all of her principles, all of who she was; she had sacrificed all she believed in, for a life she never wanted and… and a man. A man she had fallen hopelessly in love with at first sight. A man she loved with her whole heart, her whole being, or so she believed. A man who didn't love her back. If he did, _certainly_ not as much and as desperately as _she_ loved _him_. Even now she couldn't figure out why she'd done it. Why from the moment she'd seen him she'd felt like she'd do anything for him. Even after his cold rejection of her during their first meeting, even after he threw her out for a piece of eye candy, incidentally not human at all, why she had gone back for him and saved his life?

He had realized his mistake, of course, and now he would accept no substitute. Still he was a flirt, a womanizer. Proven by that ditzy spy that had snuck into his ranks and enraptured him. Still he remained oblivious. Still he did things that hurt her, physically and emotionally; he'd pushed her, insulted her. Still she overlooked them. Still she loved him. Still she couldn't picture life without him. Still she realized she was a slave to her heart; a pathetic little sheep following its shepherd with worshiping eyes. A shepherd who had one goal in mind, and stuck with it despite _everything_; ignoring all else. All those who looked to him for guidance and support were second priority to him. If they failed, he could get replacements. Well. Most of them. You see, despite his ignorance in games of love, his annoyingly alluring self-absorbance, there were two sheep he could never replace. Her and the General.

They had been handpicked by him. Sure, she was second place to the trap he'd bought that had nearly killed him, but he had _picked_ her. And Skarr… General Skarr had actually been his first choice as well. You see, he wasn't going to take any risks after the first time, so he'd sent her into the barracks, the military base undercover. She hadn't known why at the time. Now she did. He had wanted to see which leader she would follow. He had wanted her to pick her own General.

Even now she couldn't fathom what had drawn her to General Skarr. She had no clue. He was cynical, hard-hearted, hateful, he couldn't be bothered with anyone he considered lesser than _himself_. She hadn't even _trusted_ him. Or had she? Yes, she supposed she had, but at the same time she hadn't. You see, everything about him screamed traitor. Defiance, back talk, disrespect to superiors. He stood up to those who tried to control him, regardless of size. He'd stood alone, leading whatever battalion was given him. The most pathetic one as it turned out; for the Military hadn't liked him. They'd wanted him gone. They'd wanted him to leave, to give up. As if. Before the end of her and Hector's infiltration, before the end of a week, he had whipped each pathetic soldier into shape. His was crushing all opponents who faced him with an iron fist. He'd intrigued her, excited her. His cruelty pierced into her, and she felt for choice moments what Hector felt, what evil was, what power could be had; and so she'd chosen her leader. There was no other man she would rather follow than the General. Besides Hector, that is.

So they had become Evil Con Carne. So they had formed the terrorist organization. So she'd helped Hector to try and dominate the world. More than once they'd nearly succeeded before some stupid little mistake was made by either Hector or Skarr, some oversight. She'd rarely contributed to a failure, for she never took charge like they. How could one who made no decisions make a mistake? And slowly but surely, that which she'd never meant to happen began to happen. Evil had begun to seep into her heart, her mind. She'd fought back so desperately, but she was falling and fast. Hector's influence, Skarr's villainy, it was too much. Skarr had noticed the change first. He'd backed off a little, for he knew she was frightened. Why he'd bothered trying to help her she didn't get. She knew, though, that he'd known she didn't want this evil woken up in her; but it was too late. _He_ was too late. He'd roused it. Along with Hector. Hector kept pushing it, for he was clueless, and slowly but surely, against her will…

She was still good, still wanted morals, still believed Hector wasn't evil, just misunderstood. _Skarr_ was the evil one. But she knew better. She knew better. Perhaps that was why she could never get Hector. She was too goody, goody for him. He didn't know how wrong he was. Skarr, she sensed, realized it, for he'd stopped backing off. He'd gone back to normal. He'd known she was lost before even _she_ had. And it would never leave now. She was still good, yes, yet so, so wicked… He'd known it. She now knew it. Evil had grown on her; _oh_ how it had grown. Worst of all, she wasn't sure she wanted it to ever go away. Worst of all, she wasn't sure she would ever know, anymore, whether or not she was good or evil.


	28. Her Passion (Atrocia)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Possibly my last three will be put up today.)

Her Passion

Her show had been a hit, watched by millions. Atrocia's Late Nigh Atrocities. All good things had to end, though. They'd fired her. It had been a disappointment, but really she should have seen it coming. It didn't really surprise her, now that it had happened, but it had seemed unfair. Very unfair. She was only thirty, but apparently thirty was too old. Show business had been her sense of identity for so long. She supposed, however, that in a way it was a blessing, for now she had time to pursue her _true_ passion. What was her passion? Her passion was in investigating the tales of folklore. Her love was to examine every story, every account, everything she could, about legends that had been passed on from generation to generation. She had gone into the most terrifying of places, desperate to see something, to learn something. She had been daring, determined, curious, and when she had enough material, she would go on air and narrate all she'd learned. It had been nice to share her knowledge, but if they didn't want her anymore it was _their_ loss.

She loved the stories of old. Stories about the black dog, vampires, the moth man, the Evils, gods and goddesses, the Grim Reaper… the boogeyman. Just the thought made her shiver. He was her greatest passion, her favorite legend of all time, the thing she'd spent her life pursuing, trying to understand. It was nearly impossible to decipher, though, and so she'd settled for the other legends; and perhaps settled wasn't the best wording. After all, the Grim Reaper wasn't too far behind the Boogeyman; death was mysterious, dark, threatening, and foreboding. She pursued these legends with her whole soul, devoting her time to them. After all, it wasn't like she had anything better to do anymore. Why _not_ investigate? She had time. Perhaps she could even write a book.

Folklore intrigued her to no end. She was the leading authority on all things legendary. Yet still… She wanted more. She didn't want to be content with reading stories or hearing them. She didn't want to be content with exploring legends, searching for the things others had seen and being disappointed. She wanted to _see_ them, to hear and _feel_ them. She wanted to be a part of them. Did they exist? If so, what would it be like to meet them face to face, those which she loved so well? The boogeyman, which she loved so well. They were her passion, and as long as they remained, nothing else mattered.


	29. Like A Disease (Malaria)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Second up today.)

Like A Disease

Gothic. A dark and morbid, and eerie being. Light had never appealed to her. She'd always been a creature of the night. Figuratively speaking, of course. She loved the spookiness of her old home, of the moor and field nearby. She adored the haunting atmosphere the house upon the hill untouched by time gave off, overlooking her own home. Oh how she longed to solve its mysteries. Who had once been there? What had happened to its occupants? Darkness. Rats, bats, mice, spiders, snakes, torture devices and their properties, malignance; things most human beings would shy away from, be afraid of. Not her. All associated with darkness she embraced; morbid poems, haunting melodies, ancient stories of terrors and atrocities that had occurred in the past, and she adored graveyards, being in them surrounded by the sadness and memories and history. She was curious about all these things. A pity Atrocia's show was cancelled.

She wryly thought of what history would have held for her, the fate she would have suffered had she lived way back when. The people of that time would probably have called her a witch. Not that she really did anything witchlike. Well, she supposed having a deep knowledge of medicinal plants and the recipes made from them would prove it to the witch hunters of old. She supposed gathering them up would be suspicious. She supposed her very nature would have driven them to believe she was the very thing they were so desperately stalking. She could laugh at the thought. Good luck with them catching her. Good luck with them getting rid of her. She was like a disease. She would always return, no matter what. You couldn't shake her, couldn't lose her unless she so wanted you to. She kept coming back, never dying, never giving up.

You'd think, judging by her Gothic nature, that on learning the Grim Reaper was actually the true god of death, she would have leapt at the chance to stay with him. No. She'd run in terror. Why? Because though she loved darkness and morbidity, she didn't love death. She didn't want to die. Who did? No one _she_ knew. Even if she had gone, would she have been able to watch the pain and suffering of the ages first hand? To be there, see it, smell it, touch it… She didn't think so. The thought frightened her. It would frighten any human being. She was like a disease, resilient, adaptable, easily changed, but suffering was one aspect to which she didn't dare sway. She couldn't. She'd heard and seen so much of it already, but to actually witness it… Well, look at the house on the hill. She knew nothing of its history, of its story, but somehow she sensed that despair, tragedy, hatred, lingering there, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to know all the details. After all, what mortal could subject themselves to the world's anguish and yet remain themselves?


	30. Abuse (Sperg's Mom)

_**Beyond Grim And Evil**_

(A/N: Last one, third up today. This is another name to the face character. You'll probably never guess who, she only appeared in one episode, so I'll tell you. This character happens to be Sperg's mother, whom I dubbed Erin because of some comment online on a picture of her that said the character of Sperg's mother had a resemblance to Erin somebody. The first name stuck, though. My excuse for this is Sperg's characterization in the series, and if I remember correctly, his mother's disposition in the one episode she briefly appeared in. I can't recheck on her, though, that episode isn't on YouTube, so I had to go by memory. Possibly one of the more touchy one-shots I've done, so be warned. I've dubbed it down quite a bit from the way I first had it set out.)

Abuse (Erin)

Days passed by slowly, each one dragging on longer and longer. Funny. Never before had she felt so worthless, so unloved, so useless. Always fleeing, always trying to hide, and dragging her poor child through every moment of it. A son she'd never meant to have. A son so many had told her she should never have kept. She should have aborted him, they would say. But why _should_ she? It hadn't been the child's fault he had been conceived by means of the horrific attack that had stolen so much from her. It hadn't been the child's fault the man pursued her everywhere she went. It hadn't been the child's fault she had taken abuse after abuse; most physical, others psychological or emotional, and others… others intimate, as was the one which gifted her with the boy.

She thanked whatever immortals pitied her in the least that her child hadn't witnessed one of _those_ yet. Not that she believed, anymore, that any god or goddess could care for such a worthless woman. One who had birthed such a hideous child, as some had called him, his father included. How could such beauty produce such ugliness? Hah! What beauty? She had chosen to keep the baby, and she chose now to continue to protect him. Especially after the moon incident, where her child had nearly been killed; _should_ have been killed. That was the last hint of any immortal pitying her at all that she'd had. He'd survived, yet he was without a head, and she'd refused to reject him or finish him off. How could she do that to her son? It was the right choice, for soon after the head had been replaced. How she didn't know. Perhaps a deity's mercy?

It was because she chose to protect him that her life was shrouded in abuse and humiliation. The boy's father would not lay a hand on the child. She'd _die_ before letting it happen, and almost had many times. Many others would have long ago killed themselves, or their child, or both. Not her. She was stronger than that. She was a survivor. She'd chased the man away before, though the occurrences were rare. It was too late for her, but not too late for the boy. She'd sheltered him well enough, given him the love she wasn't worthy of.

She was despised, ugly, stupid, worthless; yet she was loved, she was beautiful, she was intelligent and worth more to someone than could ever be described. Yet still she hoped and prayed that one day she would feel a type of love not from a son to his mother, but the type of love that came from a man to a woman. She hoped one day she would experience it. But then again, who would have her? No one in his right mind. It didn't stop her from dreaming, however, that one day someone would come for her. Perhaps it would be the god who pitied her, or the immortal who watched over and took notice of her, or the one who took over for whichever protector had finally abandoned her. Only time would tell, she supposed, though her hopes weren't high. Until then, she would draw strength from her son, and she would persevere. Her abuser would never break her.

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><p>Final Notes: The oneshot's are complete. Now I can focus on the others. If anyone wants to see more characters you can ask. I won't make any promises, but I can try. For now, though, it'll be marked as done. Thank you to all reviewers. I hope you enjoyed them.<p> 


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